Roger Hermiston reviews Mel Henderson’s new book on former Town chairman John Cobbold, Mr John.

Len Shackleton was one of the most talented footballers ever to pull on an England shirt. An irascible Yorkshireman, he ended up plying his trade in the North-East for Sunderland where the fans adored him for his brilliant ball skills and showmanship.

In 1955 he published his autobiography, Clown Prince of Soccer. Chapter 9 was entitled “The Average Director’s Knowledge of Football” — and the page was completely empty. At the bottom was a note from the publisher which read “This chapter has deliberately been left blank in accordance with the author’s wishes.”

John Cobbold — “Mr John” as he liked to be known by players and staff - would have agreed completely with Shackleton’s sentiments, if not necessarily the disdain with which he appeared to view the inhabitants of the football club boardroom.

In Mel Henderson’s illuminating new book Mr John — John Cobbold: The Most Eccentric Man in Football Ever, the subject himself was quite clear what a director/chairman should not be. “It is the manager’s job to manage, and with the minimum of interference from the chairman and directors. If he wants to ask advice, fine, but no manager should be given advice from anyone in the boardroom as how how his team should play football. Imagine, here at Ipswich, the likes of me, someone who has never kicked a ball in his life, trying to tell Alf Ramsey, Bobby Robson or any of the other managers we have had over the years, how the game should be played.”

However, Ipswich folk would not have a space in their heart for Mr John - and such a stock of wonderful stories - if he’d been the shy, retiring sort. As Henderson’s book amply demonstrates, he may have taken a back seat on football matters, but he was responsible for creating the warm image of the club over several decades with his abundant hospitality, mischievous sense of humour and sheer sense of style. For Mr John, life was there to be embraced and lived to the full: a bottle of champagne was always on hand to celebrate every little success.

This book is John Cobbold in his own words, from beyond the grave. Mel Henderson recorded a series of conversations with him in 1983, shortly before his premature death at the age of 56 through cancer of the spine. The character that comes across is alternatively playful, restless and determined. There is in Mr John something of the schoolboy who never really grew up.

The fund of stories is amazing. My particular favourite is his encounter with an “astonishingly good-looking” woman on the Cresta Run at St Moritz in the 1950s. Mr John and a friend boldly invited her for lunch at the elegant Palace Hotel at the top of the mountain — an invitation which, to his surprise, she readily accepted. However as the snow set in, the threesome decided to adjourn instead to the resort’s cinema, where Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window was showing. Now who was the beautiful young woman sitting between Mr John and his friend in the cinema? None other than Grace Kelly, star of the film up there on the screen!

Rich or poor, John Cobbold happily rubbed shoulders with people from all walks of life in his own, imitable, utterly frank and open fashion. He was never boxed in by his own privileged background — educated at Eton, grandson of the 9th Duke of Devonshire, nephew of Prime Minister Harold Macmillan. Indeed, one of his favourite sparring partners at Town was Allan Hunter, who has contributed a fond foreword to this book. Allan’s recollections are testament to Mr John’s generosity and, in one particularly poignant section, his stoicism in face of his advancing illness.

Mr John’s homosexuality is only briefly referred to in the book, and — given the difficult times he lived through for those of that sexual persuasion — one is left wondering whether the immense amounts of drink he appears to have consumed may have been related to that.

But primarily this is a funny and touching book. At the heart of it is the extraordinary relationship between Cobbold, the Old Etonian, and Bobby Robson, the miner’s son from Langley Park in Durham. Bobby recalled: “John Cobbold. He was a special breed. They’ve thrown away the mould for that type of guy: you don’t find him in modern football. Basically, he knew nothing about the game and never interfered one iota, just gave me loads of support and guidance. If we lost, and he felt I needed some support, he’d invite Elsie and I over for lunch on Sunday. He’d sympathise and say — “it wasn’t our turn yesterday. But at least we’ve given the other team the pleasure of winning!”

Bobby used to tell another story about Mr John. “At Leicester City one afternoon, he patted me on the shoulder when we were 2-0 down. “The team’s playing frightfully well, Bobby. Have you been doing something special in training?”

“For a moment I was mystified but then it clicked. “Mr John”, I said, we’re losing 2-0. We’re the away side, we’ve changed to yellow. Leicester are playing in blue!”

To recognise the talent and ability of Bobby Robson — and to persevere with him after a troubled start- was one thing: to persuade Alf Ramsey to come to Portman Road in the late 1950s suggests that Mr John was a unique judge of character.

In the book, Mr John has two stories about Sir Alf which throw some fascinating light on his complex character. The first involves Alf celebrating Town’s promotion from the Third Division (South) by singing “Maybe Because I’m a Londoner” from beneath a table: the other has him doing his own lap of honour in a deserted Portman Road after Ipswich have won the First Division title. Who would have believed it?

“They don’t make them like that anymore” is an overused cliché, but absolutely applicable in the case of John Cobbold. This book is a portrait of a unique character and a bygone age. Football, sadly, will never be this much fun again.

You can buy copies of Mr John signed by Allan Hunter from TWTD's shop here.

Photo: Action Images

muhrensleftfoot added 14:48 - Nov 20 This'll be on my Christmas list. I used to see him occassionally drinking after hours in the Cavendish Hotel, Felixstowe with the then owner, Russell Eaton
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EatonBlue added 16:31 - Nov 20 I only met John on one occasion but he clearly had great enthusiasm for the game and in the best possible way. I am pleased that Mel Henderson has managed to get this book published after all this time.
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Nevadablue added 10:17 - Nov 21 As right as it is to acknowledge Bobby Robson as the town legend that he is, it is easy to overlook the fact that it was Mr John who bought him to us in the first place and, indeed, who stood by him when the chants of "Robson Out" were ringing all around him in the West Stand where he used to hold court, and all around FPR. There is an interesting parallel with the present day, where Mr Evans appears to be similarly stoic in his backing of RK, which is admirable and, actually, in the finest traditions of this club. In all other respects, however, ME's adopted role of the invisible man makes it all the harder for us to buy into the current regime. Our heritage is highly visible local chairmen and the contrast with the Mr John era is very stark for those of us who were there. Nonetheless I wish Mr Evans nothing but success, because if he fails then all that the likes of Mr John worked to achieve might be undone forever.

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Pendejo added 13:30 - Nov 21 Part of the extended team really. Enticing in the likes of Ramsey / Robson and then backing them, particularly when they came up against adversity. His death is one of the many events that is surely part of our fall from regular European football to where we are now.
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tb481 added 14:31 - Dec 2 what a character. in Robson's [rip] autobiography,farewell but not goodbye,chapter 6 had me in tears of laughter,should be a great read
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